


Two Worlds

by Mareepysheepy



Category: Digimon Adventure
Genre: Adulthood, Blackmail, Break Up, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareepysheepy/pseuds/Mareepysheepy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamato feels as if he’s been caught between two worlds his entire life: his mother and father, the real world and the Digital world… Taichi and Sora. He cannot go on forever. Sooner or later he’ll have to choose: his marriage, or his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on tumblr, and edited by my girlfriend Flynntervention.
> 
> This is the first fanfiction I've written in about a hundred years, but something about Digimon Tri is killing me!

 

They’re past calling this a crazy, meaningless fuck that will never happen again.

The first time, maybe. The next four even, maybe. But that wasn’t counting the times before marriage. It’s probably closer to ten. Now it's not even unspoken.

Yamato glances at Taichi face down in the pillows, legs slightly bent. He’s at ease, peaceful even. Between his legs still needs cleaning, yet Taichi’s breathing is deep and steady.

Not for the first time, Yamato finds himself wondering when this became okay.

“I could really do with a cigarette right now.” Taichi’s voice is pillow-muffled.

“You don't even smoke, idiot,” Yamato answers; the insult is as close to an endearment as they’ve come.

 “You lit up a few when we were kids. You remember? You went through that teen years phase of trying _really_ hard to be cool.”

“Fuck you, I didn't need to try,” Yamato grumbles. Sora got him off the cigarettes after they started dating; at times like this his fingers still itch to hold one, Marlboro lights, the menthol variety.

Taichi chuckles. He’s trying to think of a comeback. Then he shrugs, letting the thought go.

“Can't smoke anyway,” Yamato smugly reasons, “hotel would kick your ass.”

“I'm sure you could do it in the bathroom. It's where I do my lines of coke,” Taichi says, grinning. Yamato’s expression is sour before his grin softens to a smile. “I’m joking. I _am_ in politics though. Got to be a little dirty.”

Yamato can't tell if Taichi is being facetious, or oblivious. Taichi’s smile falls. He says nothing else; it’s too late to take it back. Instead he buries his face back into the safety of his pillow. Two childhood friends, two _fathers_ who are role models to kids worldwide, meeting in hotels for extramarital sex: that definitely constitutes as dirty. 

 _We shouldn't be doing this. This is the last time. No more._ Yamato should say them all, but he doesn’t. Instead he rests his hand on Taichi’s hair, ruffling it the way Taichi used to ruffle his after an hour of meticulous styling.

 “Go and have a shower. You're seriously gross right now,” Yamato says. Playful teasing is safe territory. It's far away from where they almost were moments ago.

 Taichi’s face emerges from the pillow, one eyebrow arched. “You're the one who forgot condoms, dick,” he scoffs.

 “Yeah, yeah,” Yamato concedes. “Next time I won't forget.”

 

\--

 

Yamato loves Sora. This fact makes things infinitely more difficult.

Falling out of love with someone justifies finding love elsewhere; at least, that's how TV dramas and romances sell it. Cheating is still a scummy thing to do, but at least  - in theory - it brings an end to two people living an unhappy routine.

It's nothing like that with Sora. Their bond was forged in the heat of battle, life and death. She’s had the same experiences; a child too young burdened with responsibility and thrust into greatness; an entire life shaped before she had a chance to consider anything different. Sora and Yamato, they share the same magical love for their digital partners and now, in an entirely different way, their two young children.

It made so much sense. As a teenager, Yamato’s interest in Sora had developed beyond that of friendship. She had grown prettier, her body had developed, grown softer and rounded. Yamato may have been an aloof boy, but he was a boy nonetheless. It was a natural progression: the ‘classic teenage boy realises the girl next door was the girl of his dreams all along’. Except this girl next door had stood by his side and time and time again saved both the digital and material worlds 

By the end of high school they were dating. Five years later, married. Five years after _that,_ they were parents to two beautiful children. Now at the age of 31, after 13 years together, Yamato can't imagine his life without Sora. He doesn't want to.

He doesn't deserve her, not in the slightest. The bearer of the crest of love who’s seen him through the highest and lowest points in his life and been by his side throughout; a steady, warm presence that feels like home.

As a child of divorce, Yamato detests cheating. The hurt, the betrayal, the life-changing implications for the little souls caught in the middle. He's the last person to think he could ever sink so low. He’d pledged to be faithful to his wife, the woman who once had brought him such joy, the woman he treasures and respects like no one else.

And yet, there's always been an exception.

The man Yamato has done the unthinkable with, yhe unforgivable. But he’s also the one Yamato found first and never can get over. His best friend in the world, the solid bedrock of his support, the man and boy he’d follow into the fires of Hell. Taichi Yagami.

The strength of their bond saved two worlds and birthed Omegamon as testament. His thirteen years with Sora is eclipsed by fifteen years with Taichi. Even after the birth Yamato’s second child, when they’d shared their _definitely absolutely_ last time together, it had been less than a year before their attempts at platonic friendship had been overridden by longing looks and almost-touches.

They tried denial, moving on. They tried forgetting. But friendship wasn’t, isn't enough. It never was.

Yamato should know. He bears the crest.

 

\--

 

No matter how many times he takes it, whenever he and Taichi have been particularly arduous Yamato is never fully prepared for the ache.

“God damn it, Taichi,” he groans, forehead pressed to the cold bathroom wall tiles.

Taichi makes a questioning noise, looking over from where he’s scrubbing his chest.

“You're like a Goddamned jack hammer when you wanna be,” Yamato adds. Taichi often needs enlightening, after all.

“I only do what you ask me - I'm sorry, _beg_ me - for,” Taichi responds, his grin smug. Yamato loves and hates that grin. He could wipe it away with his mouth...or with his fist.

“You better not have left bruises,” Yamato gripes. He doesn't add a reason why. Taichi is more than aware, walks his own paper thin line. Yamato jumps when a hand slides its way over his hip.

“Didn't,” Taichi says, voice low, close to his ear. His teeth find Yamato’s shoulder, nip heated skin softly. “Wanted to.”

Yamato shivers, but his prick is spent. He turns to face Taichi, with his palm pushing his face away.

“Cool it, moron,” he says, amused, wanting and not even the slightest bit annoyed.

Taichi laughs, giving his hip another squeeze. “I'm starving. Let's order a pizza.” With that he steps away, sliding the shower door open and shut, leaving Yamato standing alone under warm spray. On bad days being alone like this makes Yamato’s mind race, lets the self-hatred and guilt settle in his gut and his conscience roar that he’s a _fucking cowardly piece of scum, how can I keep doing this_.

Today is not one of those days. Today is a good day, and amidst the hiss of the shower, aching from his best friend’s body being inside his own, Yamato is overcome with a simple, deep-seated sense of contentment.

When the shower door again slides open, Yamato dozily looks up. “Should be about ten minutes,” Taichi tells him.

“Sure- what?” Yamato is scowling, eyeing Taichi’s grinning face. He learnt a very long time ago not to trust that expression.

“Nothing,” Taichi laughs, defensively waving his hand. “You just look really cute like that.”

Yamato’s cheeks turn red. Ridiculous really, since half an hour ago he was on his knees, howling for _more, harder_. Yet here he is blushing, sixteen again because Taichi called him “cute”.

“You’d better’ve ordered two,” Yamato grumbles, turning away. It’s too late to disguise the evidence of his embarrassment. “You’re a greedy bastard at the best of times.”

“I’m _athletic_ ,” Taichi huffs, “I gotta maintain my energy levels. It’s not like you were doing all the work back there.”

Yamato shoots him a glare, hand clenching into a fist. His fingers are itching to grab Taichi by the collar of his shirt. He’s an adult nowadays though - has more decorum. So instead he flips Taichi the bird and jabs him in the ribs as he walks past.

 

\--

It’s a cliche, sure. It had started out as a joke fight between 14 year olds. And it had ended with Taichi squirming and wriggling to disguise the throbbing lump between his legs, Yamato’s eyes widening in surprise.

The fight ended quickly. They rolled away from one another, both desperately pretending Yamato hadn't felt Taichi’s cock against his thigh. It should've been a thing to shrug off, to laugh about. It was natural, of course it was. Just friction and excitement and a hormone-addled body. Neither had laughed it off though. Instead red cheeks and awkward silences won the day. And an unspoken mutual agreement ordained neither would speak of it again. 

Over the weeks that followed, normalcy returned. But they no longer allowed their play arguments to escalate to the physical. Avoidance was the best strategy to beat the great unknown and it kept things simple. And safe. 

Until they were 15.

It had been without preamble or pretence. A heated argument, out of hand, a fist in a collar dragging and-

By that point, Yamato had kissed a couple of girls. No one life-changing, but the taste was enough to encourage further interest. As for Taichi, if he'd kissed any girls, Yamato is still sure he would've known about it. He’d probably practiced on the back of his hand though; Yamato remembers thinking Taichi hadn't been too bad. And he really couldn't have been, because after their first, they had another, and then another.

Taichi was a fast learner. An excited buzz had washed over him. It had been a battle, aggressive and fierce. No butterfly wings against his lips, but bruising force and eager tongue. By the time they'd torn themselves away from each other, his lips had felt swollen and wet, his skin tingling with heat and the memory of touch.

There’d been no shame that time, no pretending. Taichi stared at him, eyes ablaze with challenge as if daring him to deny his participation. Those eyes had bored into him, sitting above rosy cheeks and a mouth pulled straight, lips glossy.

 _Go on,_ they’d seemed to say. _Do your worst. Hit me. Yell at me. But don't ever deny that for a few moments you wanted me more than you've ever wanted anything before._

The wisdom of adulthood told Yamato that Taichi had been putting up a front. In those eyes, in that moment, Yamato had seen exactly what he'd wanted to see, and it wasn’t a terrified 15 year old boy gripping onto frayed shreds of courage.

At 15, Yamato had none of this learnt wisdom.

 

\--

 

Neither of them deny meeting up whenever Taichi is staying in town. Their wives and children watch them go, eyes crinkled, asking them to promise to “be good”.

Neither Taichi nor Yamato speak about their trips to the Digital World.Trips which, despite their clandestine nature, rarely extend beyond innocent encounters. The irony escapes neither of them, but in a lot of ways those encounters are more sacred to them than their frantic dalliances between the sheets.

It's cruel, really. Their children adore spending time in the Digital World, and Sora certainly has cause to visit. Even Mei, late as she was to join them, delights in seeing Meicoomon in her natural environment.

They do visit as families, of course. Their children and their digimon play together as Sora and Taichi point out where they conquered an impossible foe here, or learnt a valuable life lesson there. Gentle, good-natured fun gets poked at both Yamato and Taichi for their tumultuous, pre-teen relationship. Their exchanged looks are too-soft, too long. No one notices.

It's Taichi’s job to travel to the Digital World. As the Japanese Ambassador he spends as much time there as he does travelling to China, the EU and the USA. It's something Yamato would envy if he wasn't away for work so much and fully enabled to sneak away and join him.

Yamato suspects that Taichi never minds the way he invites himself along. The digimon hardly take issue with it either, delighting in the company of another chosen child. Their bearer of the crest of friendship, all grown up but still ready to play them a tune on the harmonica he always keeps in his pocket. Every time, Taichi listens with a smile on his face, teasing him for being a misery-guts when he's done.

This time is like so many others. Harmonica to lips and Gabumon pressed reassuringly to his side. There’s a sense of serenity so far removed from the days of struggle. Yamato’s not naive. He adores his family. Loves his job and his life. But this is escape. This is contentment; playing his music undisturbed in the presence of two of his most cherished beings; vast blue sky above him and soft green underfoot. No guilt. No shame. No hole in his heart that shouldn't be there.

When he finishes and places the harmonica on his lap, Taichi’s smile widens into a grin.

“Don't you know anything cheerful like ‘if you're happy and you know it’?” he says, laughing.

Gabumon nuzzles his side. “I think it was wonderful. I always love hearing you play, Yamato.” At that, Yamato can't bring himself to respond to Taichi’s jab, heart squeezing at Gabumon’s endless faith. He lifts a hand to stroke the fur sitting atop his head. Not for the first time Yamato wonders if his digimon will forgive him of anything.

“Taichi?” Agumon pipes up, snapping Yamato away from thoughts he doesn't want to think. “Did you bring your football this time?”

“Nope.” Taichi smiles, patting Agumon’s head. “You've already popped two with your claws. I didn't feel ready to sacrifice a third yet.”

Although it doesn't seem possible with a mouth full of pointy teeth, Agumon pouts. “I wasn't gonna pop it. I just wanted you to show some of the babies some of your tricks.”

“If he even still can without puffing,” Yamato mutters, hiding his smile with a turned head.

“Hey!” Taichi shouts. “I'm still plenty fit. You should know!”

Yamato opens his mouth to reprimand him for making such a risqué comment. A glance at Gabumon and Agumon’s unsuspecting faces makes him close it again. In the presence of their beloved Digimon they're safe. Safe from harm and safe to truly be themselves.

“I do know,” Yamato says instead, sultry. “I'm hoping you can show me again soon.”

Taichi’s answering blush feels like more of a victory than a sharp comment. Yamato seizes it with an indulgent smile.

 

\--

“Yamato…”

Taichi’s barely spoken since Yamato walked in, even as he frantically rode his cock. He’d pulled him out as soon as they were both done, and the silence has stretched on since, Taichi facing away with the sheets pulled up to his chin.

Something thick is lodged in Yamato’s throat. It's hard to breathe. Something is wrong and, selfishly, Yamato’s heart leaps at the thought that Taichi has come to his senses and is about to make the decision that neither of them want.

He can't answer. He's too afraid of what Taichi is going to say. If he doesn't answer, it will go away and this fantasy life -this lie- can stretch on forever.

“I can't do this anymore.”

Yamato hears a crash, feels it, the world smashing to pieces around him as his heart plummets through the floor.

Taichi is speaking slowly, quietly, but it's hard to hear him through the roar.

“My feelings haven't changed,” Taichi explains softly. “I just...can't keep living this way. I can't keep doing it.”

“Taichi-” Yamato cringes. His own voice sounds broken, like he's forcing it through a blender in his throat.

“It's not your fault, Yamato.” Taichi’s voice sounds stronger. “The truth is that I'm gay.”

That hits Yamato like a bus. All these years Yamato assumed Taichi is like him, that Taichi loves his wife, but is just so inexplicably drawn to him that he can do the unthinkable and the unforgivable. It never occurred to Yamato that Taichi may be gay. Ludicrously, some small part of him is hurt, thinking that he'd been more special than he really was.

“I love Meiko, but I'm not in love with her. Not like I am with you-” Taichi shuffled, rubbing his feet together. “Sorry, I know we’ve never said it aloud, but I figured it was obvious…”

Words are still frozen on Yamato's tongue. His heart is thudding, aching in his chest. He answers the unspoken question with a hand to Taichi’s skin, palm sliding over the bare curve of his shoulder.

Taichi understands, relaxing fractionally under the care. “It's not fair to either of us, me living this lie. We haven't had sex in years...I feel nothing physical for her…” He pauses, taking a breath. It's a life that Yamato can't imagine. Despite his own guilt, suddenly he feels very sorry for them both.

“She gave me a son and she's a wonderful friend. But I was only ever doing what I thought I should be doing. What was expected of me. I used her.” Taichi’s voice wobbles. “She deserves better than me.”

“Taichi…” Yamato sounds like a broken record. All he can say is his name. Words can’t express what he's feeling, how much he hurts for this frightened creature he adores, curled up as if the emotional turmoil is a physical wound.

“I'm gonna tell her tomorrow when I go home. That I'm gay, I mean. That I can't…” He breaks of, fighting for words. “That I'm done lying about who I am.”

“And...what will you do then?” Yamato asks, finally finding his voice.

“I dunno. Run away with you to the Digital World and fuck all day?” He says it with a chuckle, but they both know that Taichi is only half joking.

Beneath it all though, Taichi is resigned. Yamato can hear it in his voice. He knows what path Yamato will choose and it isn't the one with him. And yet despite everything there's no ultimatum there. Only fondness and resolve.

“This really is the last time, Yamato,” he says. “I can't let you be the bad guy. I’ll leave you to get on with your family. We’ll forget this-”

“We won't,” Yamato cuts him off, more fiercely than he intended. “ _I_ won't.”

Taichi lets out a slow breath, the sound whistling between his teeth. He still hasn't turned to face him. “I can't say I'm not glad that you feel that way. I’ll...I won't forget either. I’ll always remember this.”

There's a shift. Between them they reach a silent, mutual understanding, and when Taichi rolls over, Yamato is relieved to see the unshed tears in his eyes reflected in Taichi’s own.

“Thanks for everything, Yamato,” Taichi says, smile soft.

There are no words. Yamato leans over to kiss him instead, putting into it everything he can’t say.

 

\---  


“Did you know?”

Yamato waits for the follow-up question but it never comes. It makes him feel worse that she doesn't even consider the possibility there's more to it.

Yamato sighs and says, “I knew.”

Sora is upset and angry all at once, but even as she frowns though understanding struggles to win the war on her face.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asks. Her tone is accusing, but not belligerent. She's hurt. He's hurt her with just this.

“I don't know…” More lies. With the affair nothing more than a memory, it worries him that he can still mislead her so easily. “It seemed so personal to him.” It's lame, but he puts it out there.

She buys it, sighing and adopting the same look she gives their children when she’s about to chide them. It makes him feel worse. 

“Yamato…” she starts, patience smothering the anger, although the hurt remains sharp in her voice. “I know he's your best friend, and I know we’ve all been through alot together, but you should've at least told me. We could've…”

“What?” Yamato asks, sharper than he intended to. He feels defensive and he's not sure it's on his own behalf. “Helped? How? Told him to _not_ be gay?”

Sora’s frown deepens and her eyes narrow. Yamato doesn't blame her. He shouldn't have spoken to her like that. She's the bearer of the crest of love. Of course she cares about everyone caught up in this shitty mess.

“I don't know, Yamato. If we'd _talked_ maybe we could’ve worked something out,” she says, voice flat.

“I know…” Yamato responds. He feels tired suddenly. His shoulders are sloped and his heart feels so heavy.

“They have a _son_ -”

“I _know_ , Sora-” A son Yamato loves to pieces. A son who calls Yamato ‘uncle’ and yet never once featured in his thoughts whenever he was cock-deep in the man’s father.

They hold each other’s gazes for a moment longer, both upset for different reasons but as equally helpless. Eventually Sora visibly shrinks, tension sliding out of her with a sigh, leaving her heavy eyed. She moves to sit next to Yamato. There’s space between them that tells him he’s not forgiven yet, but Sora knows they’re stronger as a team. 

“How did I miss this..?” she wonders aloud. “I should’ve known he didn’t love her.” Her fingers move idly to where her crest once sat. It’s no longer physical but still very much alive within her. For a moment Yamato feels sick with the realisation that, if it had occurred to her to look closely enough before, she would’ve seen something in the way that he looks at Taichi. 

“He does love her,” Yamato says slowly. His voice is softer than he intends, but somehow he realises it will wobble if he puts more into it. “He’s just not _in_ love with her. 

“I get that, I think,” Sora says, hands clasped. “I _do_ understand and it makes me feel so sorry for them both. I honestly cannot believe that Taichi has had to lie all this time. He must have been so afraid.” She breaks off to rub her eyes, conscience warring inside her. “But Mei asked for none of this. All she’s done is love him and he’s lied this entire time. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to take sides. I love them both.”

Yamato adores her in that moment. His wife, the woman with too much heart. With a gentle hand he reaches out to touch her shoulder, warm palm in comfort resting against the curve. “You don’t have to pick sides, Sora. You should go to Mei. Taichi would understand and think no less of you.”

Her hands drop from her face as she leans fractionally into his hand. “I suppose so. Besides, Taichi has you.” She notices the way Yamato’s hand twitches on her shoulder, shoots him a questioning look for it.

 _‘I can’t do that, Sora. He has too much of me’_ he wants to say. “I think it’s best we...put on a united front…” Yamato says instead.

Sora nods and moves to lean against his shoulder. Internally Yamato screams at himself for being a coward. Even now the lies won’t stop coming.

 

\--  


“She wanted to pretend but I just...I can't anymore. I'm so tired…”

Yamato aches to go to him, but he can't. He knows what will happen if he does and he can't do it. He can't be the sole one between them to sin. “I probably shouldn't have phoned...I'm a bit drunk-” a bang and a hissed expletive follows, “Okay, I'm a lot drunk.”

Yamato’s mouth feels like it's full of cotton. He feels helpless and useless and it's worse than the guilt. He didn't think it possible, but it’s so much worse. 

“I moved out anyway. Won't say where because...yeah. But hey don't worry about me, okay? I know you are. But don't. Just need some time to get on my feet and then I’ll find myself some cutie that's somehow as gorgeous as you. We could double date.” Taichi laughs a noisy, drunk-slurred laugh that sounds worryingly close to hysterical. “That wouldn't be awkward as shit, right? Anyway. I got a press conference in a couple of days. Gotta parade myself around. Fuck.” He snorts. It sounds like he's flopped onto his bed. 

There’s a pause. Yamato's mind fills it with _I miss you_ and _please get here now_ , but somehow he knows Taichi won't say it. He's too strong-willed. He's the courageous one after all.

“She begged me to stay. In the end I just walked. I’ll bring shame on her. I'm so sorry to have done that. She deserved better. Sora will look after her right? Let her know it's not her fault? Hopefully I can still see my kid but that'd be pushing it right now.” Taichi pauses to take a ragged breath. “Shit, fuck- Yamato, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve phoned. I’m sorry. I’ll see you around some time. I…” he trails off and Yamato knows the words he’s has bitten off. “Yeah. See ya.”

At the sound of the click, Yamato slowly pulls his phone away from his ear. The tinny sound of his voicemail asks him if he wants to press two to save the message, or three to delete it. Survival instinct flares. The message isn’t incriminating, but it’s recorded evidence which at worst could raise questions from whoever overheard it, and at best tempt him to hold onto something he needs to let go of. Best he delete it now. The heartache is enough of an open wound. No use pouring salt and lemon juice into it.

His voicemail completes its cycle, starts wheeling through his messages again.

“Hey, Yamato. It’s me. God, I really fucked everything up. She wanted to pretend-”

Yamato presses two.

 

\---

“Yamato!”

Yamato is glad his body responds from muscle memory whenever Gabumon is around. Without a thought he swings around, arms outstretched as Gabumon pops out of the computer screen and into his chest. He gently lowers Gabumon to the ground, setting his feet down as Gabumon’s arms settle in a loop around his thighs. It's a practiced, fluid motion that's as much a comfort to Yamato as Gabumon’s presence is.

“You're working late,” Gabumon marvels in his ever-soft voice. 

“Yeah. I've got some online training to do. I’ll be home soon though.”

Gabumon nods, still hugging his legs with the easy innocence of a child. The hugs are one of the main reasons why Gabumon has chosen not to grow into Garurumon. That and he just won't fit in most of the places Yamato spends his time (although his work would probably accommodate. Ever since Gabumon went to the moon with him, he's become something of a mascot to the Japanese Space Agency.)

Yamato respects his choice. It's mostly perks anyway, once he puts aside the fact his best friend and partner is essentially a child. It’s never usually an issue, but during these past few weeks Yamato’s found himself painfully aware of it. It's led him to avoid Gabumon at a time where he's needed him more than ever. 

“May I sit with you?” Gabumon asks, still shy despite his years of adventures.

“You don't have to ask!” Yamato says, surprised. “You _never_ have to ask that.”

“I know,” Gabumon replies, ducking his head to hide it against Yamato’s thigh. “But you've needed space recently and I didn't want to crowd you.”

Child or not, Yamato is taken aback by Gabumon’s understanding. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. Yamato finds himself thanking and cursing the powers that be that he got the wisest partner.

“I'm sorry, Gabumon,” he says. There's no point in denying it. “I just needed…” He doesn't know what he needed. He does know that he needs Gabumon right now.

Yamato sinks to his knees, arms curling around Gabumon and tightening. Gabumon responds in kind and Yamato knows he's forgiven.

“I did something bad, Gabumon,” he confesses. The room is empty and Gabumon is safe. It feels good to speak. It’s felt like there's a balloon in his chest for too long. 

It's been 13 weeks since Taichi made his decision. 10 weeks since he received his call. Nine since he last saw him, on screen at a press conference. One day since he heard his voice, phone pressed to his ear as he sat in his car in the evening light.

The conference had been a hard watch. Taichi had been paraded around like a court jester, looking small behind the podium as the flicker of press cameras decorated him. He'd apologised for lying, apologised for the harm done to his wife. Explained that he had only ever done what he thought was right. He'd handed in his resignation, he'd said, but the Digimon -led by Leomon- had refused it. The Japanese government had acquiesced and he was to remain in post. Thank you and no further questions.

Yamato strongly suspects the government would have been only too happy to accept Taichi’s resignation and will the entire embarrassing affair away. But he doubts the Digimon were willing to accept anyone other than the leader of their chosen children as their human ambassador. Strategically it made more sense to keep on a shameful representative than to ruin relations. Unlike most of their politicians, at least Taichi’s dirty washing was aired now...most of it.

“Did you mean to?” Gabumon asks. His big eyes are full of trust and love and loyalty. He can’t ever believe Yamato is even capable of doing bad things.

“No...but I knew what I was doing. I knew that it would hurt someone. That it would hurt several people,” Yamato tells him, stroking the ears of his striped pelt. 

“Why did you do it?” 

The question gives Yamato pause for thought. “Because it made me happy,” he answers, honest.

“Because it hurt people?” 

“No. In spite of it,” Yamato whispers.

Gabumon nods and tightens his grip around him. “You're a good person, Yamato,” he says with such conviction Yamato almost believes him. “You care so much about people that you don't always put yourself first. If whatever it was made you happy, then I'm glad.”

Yamato can't help but smile at that. It's a very simple and optimistic way of looking at things, but he appreciates the sentiment. “You're the only one I can talk to about this,” Yamato admits.

“Can't you talk to Taichi?” Gabumon asks. “Agumon is really worried about him.”

Yamato’s brows furrow. “What? Why?”

“Don't you know? Taichi moved out of home and Meiko cries a lot. Agumon told me that he's living in hotels and spending a lot of time alone. He doesn't think Taichi is eating very much because he can't cook and he’s tired all the time. Agumon makes sure to order him pizza though.”

“Is Agumon with him?” Yamato asks quickly.

Gabumon nods. “He tries to be as much as possible, but he checks in on Meiko and their son and Koromon too. He hates that his family is broken up and he's trying to take care of them all.. 

“What about Hikari and Tailmon?”

“Hikari doesn't know where he is. Agumon said that he moves around a lot. Taichi answers her calls though,” Gabumon replies.

Sitting back on his heels, Yamato runs a hand through his hair. “Gabumon, can you go and tell Agumon to watch over Taichi? Sora and Mimi are looking after Meiko, and she has Meicoomon too.”

Gabumon nods. “Okay, Yamato.”

Yamato pushes himself to his feet. Heading over to his computer terminal, he shuts it down, training forgotten.

“Go and do it now, okay? I’ll catch up with you later,” he says as he grabs his keys and wallet, stuffing them into his jacket pockets. 

“Sure. Text me when you need me. I’ll come right away.” With that, Gabumon leaps back into the closest screen before Yamato can even thank him.

It's no matter. Yamato will see him soon. Even so, he feels a tug of loss as if a piece of him is missing and it's not entirely unlike how he feels about Taichi.

 

\---

“What the fuck?” 

“Hello to you to, please come in,” Taichi says with tired sarcasm as Yamato pushes past him into his hotel room.

“You look like shit,” Yamato tells him. He's being kind because Taichi looks worse than shit. He’s lost weight, eyes sunken and shadowed. His skin is paler than the last time Yamato saw him and his hair needs a cut.

“Thanks a lot.” Taichi sounds annoyed, but it lacks the usual heat Yamato can so well draw out of him. 

“Well you do.” Yamato looks around the room. Taichi has always been surprisingly tidy and he's taking care of the room, but it smells strongly of grease and there's a pile of fast food boxes spilling over the rim of the bin. “Have you been living on take-away food?” Yamato scowls.

Taichi sighs, sitting down on his bed. “Well it's not like I have a kitchen.”

“Why don't you, I don't know, _rent_ somewhere?” Yamato asks. It's obvious to him. Taichi won't be moving back home, so why squat in hotel rooms like some sort of drifter?

“It's not that simple. Most of my money is tied up in the house. I can't afford to rent somewhere and the government is subsidising my stay until I get something sorted out,” Taichi explains.

“Eat in the restaurant then!” Yamato shoots back at him.

Taichi shrugs. “Don't have any company.” That sucks the fight out of Yamato. Taichi notices and waves a hand at him. “Don't give me that look,” he says. “I told you not to worry about me. I'm not dying of loneliness here, okay? Koushiro stops by from time to time, and I've been spending more time in the Digital World. I'm fine.”

“Fine,” Yamato repeats. Reaching for his phone, he tugs it out of his pocket, fingers flying over the screen. He gets a ping back almost as soon as his fingers pause. “Gabumon’s bringing our rice cooker and I've told him to get Agumon to help him fetch some food. You're going to eat a proper meal even if it kills me.”

For a moment Taichi marvels at him, breaking into a little laugh a moment later. “You're still the big brother type.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yamato waves dismissively. In three strides he’s at Taichi’s side, moving to sit on the bed beside him. The mirth drops from Taichi’s eyes as Yamato studies him, first with his eyes, and then with his hands.

“You look awful,” he comments, brow furrowed. “Are you sleeping properly?”

Although Taichi looks slightly annoyed by the inspection, he doesn't pull away. “Of course I'm sleeping, but the government is pissed off with me so yeah, I pull some extra hours. I gotta at least try to make up for the embarrassment.”

“You still need to rest though,” Yamato says, stern. “And to start eating properly again.” His hand finds Taichi’s hair, stroking some strands between his fingers. “Your hair needs a wash too,” he comments.

“I washed it yesterday!” Taichi responds, colouring.

“It's probably your diet. It's made your skin bad too,” Yamato tells him.

Taichi’s cheeks go a darker red and he raises his hand to swat Yamato’s away, letting it fall to the join of his neck and shoulder. “God damn it, Yamato,” he snaps, but there's hurt behind the anger. “I'm not exactly in the best place here and you wanna find every way possible to say that I look like shit. Thanks.”

For a moment, Yamato says nothing, eyes fixed on the barely-hidden vulnerability on Taichi’s face. The hand on Taichi’s neck twitches, fingers curling and then opening as they move to slide around Taichi’s neck and brush against the hairs at the base of his skull. The resulting shiver is all it takes for his fingers to tighten and pull, tugging Taichi closer as he leans in himself.

Their lips meet, a brush at first before both tilt their heads to slant their mouths together. The kiss deepens almost instantly. They waste no time being flirtatious, moving swiftly to desperation. Taichi is wanton. Yamato is hungry. Both are seeking something found only in each other.

Yamato pushes Taichi to the bed, mouth claiming kiss after devouring kiss, sloppy and wet and unapologetic. They've been years without this before, but this time after only scant few months, it feels like they're starving men.

Yamato uses his mouth, his hands and his body to soothe away the sadness. He kisses the worry lines at Taichi’s mouth and smooths the dark patches under his eyes with his thumbs. He sucks at a pulse that has only known the flutter of anxiety of late, and palms the sharp curve of ribs that are too prominent. He kisses and bites and licks as he strokes and scratches, gradually moving lower once he's satisfied that every tiny part of Taichi’s body has forgotten how to hurt.

By the time he reaches his dick it's already standing erect, a beautiful curve Yamato knows so intimately. He takes it in hand and sinks it half way into his mouth. Above him Taichi keens and buries his hands in Yamato’s hair. Yamato doesn't mind. Taichi doesn't need teasing and Yamato is too impatient to think of anything other than devouring this wonderful, fragile man.

It's over quickly. Taichi bucks into the suction and grips onto Yamato’s bobbing head, stiffening with a strangled cry. Cum floods Yamato’s mouth, coating his throat and tongue in pulses. He swallows, pulling off as the last weak spurts hit his chin. He wipes the off with the back of his hand. Taichi lies boneless on the bed, rubbing his face and gasping for breath.

Sitting up, Yamato reaches for the glass of water on the side, gulping down mouthfuls to wash the taste out. “You seriously need to eat better,” he says to Taichi, grimacing. “You taste gross.”

Dropping his hands, Taichi fixes him with an incredulous look. “Wh- no one _asked_ you to go down on me!”

“Yeah well I did and it wasn't pleasant. You gotta eat better,” Yamato shrugs.

“I really don't get you,” Taichi shakes his head, sitting up and leaning forward to collect his underwear.

Yamato doesn't really get himself either. He didn't come here expecting to suck Taichi’s cock. Somehow the line between wanting to wipe away the hurt and Yamato’s desperate need to feel him again got blurred. It would be so easy to run now, to hide away and berate himself for this mistake, but he simply doesn't want to. It doesn't feel like a mistake.

Running a hand through his hair, Yamato scoops up Taichi’s discarded shirt and tosses it to him. He sits by his side as Taichi yanks it on, close enough for their thighs to touch. After a moment, he reaches out, resting his hand on Taichi’s knee, meeting his eyes when he shoots a questioning look. “Look after yourself better,” Yamato says, voice soft and carrying so much more than he can say aloud.

Slowly, Taichi nods, cheeks flushed pink. “Okay,” he agrees. After a moment he smiles, a hint of his boyish personally peeking out. “Pinkie promise?” he asks, lifting his hand, little finger poking upwards.

Yamato rolls his eyes, laughing and shoving Taichi playfully. “Fuck off.”

The laughter subsides after a moment. Yamato can see Taichi is in a better mood, even though neither want to address that they agreed this wouldn't happen again. With an affectionate squeeze, Yamato gets up to go to the bathroom, washing his hands and wiping them down.

Gabumon and Agumon pop out of the television set soon after he’s returned to Taichi’s side, laden with rice, vegetables and Yamato’s rice cooker.

Dinner is a simple affair but Yamato can tell from the way Taichi devours it that he's missed home-cooked food. The thought gives Yamato’s a tender sensation. He reaches out to touch Taichi’s jaw, startling him. His surprised frown eases at whatever he sees in Yamato’s eyes, and he returns to shovelling rice in his mouth. Gabumon and Agumon don't seem to notice, but if they did, they don't seem to think anything of it.

Yamato stays that night, curled up in bed face-to-face with Taichi, Agumon and Gabumon between them. It's warm and it's safe and feels a lot like the family waiting for him back at home. This double-life isn't good for anyone, but Yamato simply cannot help himself. He loves this little, dysfunctional family with all his heart and soul. 

Right or wrong, Yamato needs this and he's not ready to give it up just yet.

  


\---

Yamato loves spending time with Takeru. They seldom see one another these days, Takeru often off on book signing tours and taking care of two young children.

They're sitting at a ramen stall after work (for Yamato at least. Takeru makes up his own hours). It's been a while since they've been entirely alone together without nieces, nephews and sister-in-laws in tow and Yamato welcomes it. Takeru is one of the few people Yamato always feels completely comfortable around. Something about their heart-stopping adventures and rapid growing-up overcame the distance their parents put between them growing up.

But there's something heavy in the air between them this time, lurking at the periphery of their conversation. Yamato isn't sure, but he has a feeling it’s something to do with the Taichi situation. Being married to Hikari, Takeru must be seeing the entire thing from a very different view point. Yamato wants to ask, but he's afraid Takeru won't be the ally that he needs Taichi to have.

“Hey…” Takeru says after a lull in the conversation. Yamato glances over and sees Takeru’s face expression is stern and serious. There’s trepidation in his eyes. He's wary about something and it makes the hairs on the back of Yamato’s neck rise. 

“Taichi?” Yamato supplies, barely managing to keep the dread from his voice. It's gnawing at the pit of his stomach and he has no clue why. 

Takeru nods once, slowly. “To be honest it's making things awkward between Hikari and I. She's worried about him and although she understands why everyone's upset, she feels like she can't go to him. Even if she could, he won't even tell her where he is.”

“Did she know?”

“That's the other thing,” Takeru puffs out a sigh. “She’s known for years. She even admitted that she'd tried to talk Taichi out of getting married the night before the wedding.”

Yamato remembers that. It's a bitter memory. He'd watched as Taichi drank too much too fast and had flirted a little too openly with Yamato in front of all their friends. The others had chalked it up to his usual fooling around but Yamato had been furious with him, the threat to his own new marriage rolling together with his unjustified heartbreak. They'd shared an angry, drunk kiss that had nearly escalated into a fist fight before Taichi had staggered off to answer his phone. 

“I had no idea…” Yamato whispers. Taichi had disappeared for the rest of the night. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd been with his sister.

Takeru shrugs. “Yeah well...it's a bit stressful to find out your wife-come-best friend has been keeping something so important to herself.” He shakes his head, taking a slug of his beer as he thinks on his next words. “But I understand...it was Taichi’s secret to tell and she was just being a good sister. And I understand that...more than you'd think.”

Yamato gulps, throat going dry. Suddenly it feels like he's scaling a hill, about to reach the peak and see what's on the other side. Something tells him Takeru is getting to the reason why he asked him out for dinner.

“But is being a good sibling more important than being a good person?” Takeru asks. His eyes bore into Yamato's. It makes him feel exposed.

“What...are you talking about?” Yamato sketches a smile on his face. “You're being so serious.”

“Yamato…” Takeru says slowly, as if Yamato is a deer he might frighten away. “I know that there's something between you and Taichi. I don't know what it is, whether it's emotional or physical, or if it’s something you're aware of or even really acted on. I'm also sure that Hikari suspects the same, but obviously we’ve never spoken about it and never will. It sort of...hangs between us.”

Yamato has no response. He sits and watches his brother with wide eyes and what feels like a rock in his stomach.

“I'm not going to tell you what to do. Or even try to advise. I know it's complicated and I love Taichi as another brother. I'm not angry or upset with you. You might even think I'm an idiot because I've read too much into something that's barely there. I just...I want you to know that you can always talk to me. I’ll share the burden.”

“Takeru…” Yamato is at a loss for words. His mind is in turmoil. He feels vulnerable, under threat… But at the same time he feels relief. What he and Taichi share is real. It exists in the real world and not just their little bubble of self-made reality. 

“Are you taking care of him?”

Yamato nods slowly. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good,” Takeru nods. “Hikari will be glad. She said that he looks like he's lost weight.”

“He has,” Yamato says. “He's lived on shit for weeks but I'm fattening him back up.”

“Good,” Takeru says again. “Next time we can go to this nice, little Korean barbecue place I found. Maybe you could bring Taichi? Hikari would love it.”

“Yeah,” Yamato smiles. It's a heartfelt smile that looks nothing like the pained one he forced earlier. “Sounds good to me.”

  


\---

“Yamato...I heard something the other day, but I don't know if I should tell you,” Gabumon says.

If anything is guaranteed to grab his attention more than suspicious silence from his children and calls to come back to bed, that's it. He looks up from where he's preparing dinner and shoots Gabumon a questioning look.

It's not his dinner: it's Taichi’s. Laden with food he heads over to Taichi’s hotel room at least once per week. Even with the rice cooker, Taichi is limited by his complete uselessness in the kitchen. He can at least eat rice whenever he's peckish, but Yamato sleeps easier at night knowing he's had something nutritional inside him.

At one point he was going over three times a week, but Sora’s seemingly endless patience had started to wear thin. She’d been tolerant and even grateful that Yamato was helping Taichi to get back on track, but even she hadn't appreciated Yamato spending half his time away from home. As the weeks passed, her disapproving scowl had deepened and her voice had grown tighter.

They'd come to a mutual, silent agreement that Yamato would prepare several days’ worth of food and spend one evening away. It had worked well enough for a couple of months, but even with the compromise Yamato senses he’s starting to try Sora’s patience.

Yamato isn't sure how long this can last. It's not the sex that drags him back every time. He and Taichi don't even fool around all that often. Instead, Yamato finds a deep, simple pleasure in watching Taichi get back on his feet. Taichi, Yamato thinks, looks better than he has in years. The burden has been lifted, his exuberance has returned. Despite everything, Yamato can once again see the kid he fell in love with all those years ago.

Gabumon and Agumon have been enjoying spending time with them too. They always enjoy the food and Yamato can tell that they love the intimacy of it being just them again. They both love their children, but a shared history and adventure lie with Yamato and Taichi. They're their chosen. When they’re together, they’re a team, a little mismatched family that could take on (or even save) the world.

Presently, Gabumon is fidgeting, words still hanging in the air. It bothers Yamato. He has a bad feeling and he can't put his finger on why.

“Gabumon,” he says when Gabumon isn't being forthcoming. He places the knife down and turns to eye him properly.

Gabumon blushes under the attention. “Well…” He hesitated. “Agumon was telling me that Taichi has been sending a lot of money to someone.”

Yamato frowns. It's not unusual for their Digimon to look after their digital transactions for them. They like to do their part to protect them in every way they can, and naturally as digital entities, they excel in preventing and combating cyber fraud. Gabumon even helps out with the Space Agency to keep cyber terrorism at bay.

The idea of Agumon talking about Taichi's finances doesn't sit quite right with Yamato. It's private stuff and their digimon know that. “Why did Agumon talk to you about this?” he asks. There has to be a reason, but right now he can't see it.

Gabumon looks even more worried and very much like he's said something he shouldn't have. “I...he's worried because Taichi didn't say anything about finding a house and it's not going to Meiko. He didn't get it so he followed the money and it seems to be going to a bad man.”

Yamato’s ears prick up at that. “What?” He frowns, worried. “What do you mean ‘ _bad man_ ’?”

Gabumon looks a bit taken aback at his tone. “I… I don't really know. Agumon said he’s got something that Taichi wants and he's making Taichi pay a lot of money for it.”

“That sounds like a standard transaction. What about that made Agumon worried?” Yamato knows it isn't fair to press Gabumon, but he needs to know if he should be concerned. Between paying for his house and supporting his family, and saving up enough to cover rent for his own place, Taichi doesn't exactly have money to burn.

“He said that what the man has was originally Taichi’s and that he won't give it back?” Gabumon stutters.

Yamato’s frown grows deepens. He reaches to pat Gabumon’s head reassuringly. Gabumon immediately nuzzles into it.

“Someone stole something from Taichi?” Yamato mulls aloud. He wracks his mind for anything critical that Taichi might be missing, but beyond his digivice and an old photograph, Taichi cares surprisingly little for material goods. Yamato knows for certain that he has both in his keeping. Neither leave his sight, so what could possibly be worth trying so hard to get back?

When realisation hits him his stomach knots. He lunges to snatch up his keys and wallet, his arms sliding quickly into his coat.

“I'm going to Taichi’s!” He calls, dashing for the door.

He nearly collides with Sora as she walks in, their two children in tow. She looks bewildered as he storms past her, her eyes wide. “Yamato?”

“Sora I- I gotta go!” he gasps, barely pausing.

“Wait! What the hell is going on?” she cries. She draws their son closer to her side.

“We’re fine,” Yamato says. “I just- I gotta see Taichi.”

“Can't it wait five minutes?” Sora asks, growing cross, fear easing into irritation that he made her uneasy.

“No, I- it has to be now. See you later!”

Yamato dashes off, Sora still standing in the doorway with her children on either side.

“Will I?”

 

\--

“Hey, I wasn't expecting you- hey!” Taichi yelps as Yamato barges inside.

“Why didn't you tell me you were being blackmailed?” he yells, gripping him by the collar and dragging him in with him.

For a moment, Taichi’s face does nothing. Then every one of his features seem to sink. “How'd you find that out?” he asks, looking off to the side.

“Well thanks for not denying it!” Yamato snaps, tone biting. “At least I can thank you for that. 

Taichi shrugs. “You knew. What's the point?” He still hasn't looked at him. Yamato feels his blood boiling. “Seriously, how'd you find out?”

“Agumon’s been looking out for your finances. He found something and told Gabumon,” Yamato explains.

“Ah, damn it,” Taichi sighs, raking fingers through his hair. “I asked him not to poke his nose in. Shit. I should've been firmer.”

“Forget _that_! How long has this been going on?” Yamato demands, shaking Taichi once, fist still curled in his collar.

Taichi offers no resistance, wobbling like a rag doll. “Yamato, stop freaking out, okay? I'm alright-" 

“How. Long?” Yamato growls.

Taichi sighs in response. He sounds like a balloon that's been popped, air hissing free as he deflates. “I dunno. Just over a month.”

“A month!?” Yamato shouts. “You've been hiding this for a _month?_ ” Taichi flinches, looking away. “So all the smiles and the acting like you're doing _so_ much better was all a fucking _charade_?” And that's what hurts the most. They've spent so long lying to their families and friends, but they never lie to each other. That's always been something Yamato has treasured in their relationship. They've always been honest with each other, often brutally so, and now Taichi has shit all over that. Yamato feels betrayed. 

“Fuck off, Yamato!” Taichi spits back, but there's wetness in his eyes. “It wasn't like that. I _am_ doing better. I'm better than I have been in years. I wish this hadn't happened, but I haven't been lying - I'm happier. Sure, I'm worried about the money, but it's just money at the end of the day. So long as I can keep supporting my family, I’ll find a way.”

It's Yamato’s turn to deflate. Belatedly he realises that some of his fury at the asshole who’s done this has been misdirected towards Taichi. As an apology, he slowly lets go of his collar and folds his arms instead. “So...how much money are we talking here?”

Taichi’s wince tells him it's not good. He rubs the back of his neck in a gesture that Yamato has long since noticed as self-comfort. “Uh...five million...” he mumbles.

Yamato’s eyes bulge. “Five _million_?”*

“Yeah…” Taichi shrugs. “Think he thought public figures make more than we do.” He laughs; it;s small, humourless. “He's kindly offered to let me pay in installments.”

“Why haven't you gone to the _police_ , Taichi?” Yamato spreads his hands. It's the most obvious thing in the world to him. Taichi is supposed to be courageous. How could he allow himself to be bullied like this?

“Because I can't risk this getting out, Yamato! He’s freelance pap. If he figured out I've gone to the police, it’ll be all over the newspapers by tomorrow.”

“So get Agumon to hack into his account!” Yamato shouts.

Taichi shoots him a dirty look. “I am _not_ asking Agumon to do that. It's been totally illegal since the Impmon incident and I can't believe you're even suggesting it.”

“Well _I_ can't believe you're paying _five million_ to some scumbag! What's he even got on you?” The surge of aggression Yamato is feeling dies in his belly for the way Taichi flinches.

“I...you don't have to know,” Taichi says quietly.

“You're as bad as Gabumon,” Yamato huffs. “I _do_ have to know. I need to understand why you've taken such a massive leave of your senses that you'd practically bankrupt yourself to pay some bastard’s blackmail money.”

Taichi holds his gaze for a moment, and Yamato can see a weariness there he hasn't seen in weeks. Taichi sighs, looking away again. “I thought public interest in me would've died away by now. There’s plenty of scandals around politicians and celebrities to choose from but…” Yamato stays silent, letting him speak. Taichi’s meandering towards the point which tells him he’s nervous about something. Yamato guesses it's something that Taichi thinks is going to make Yamato angry.

“This bastard’s been following me, Yamato. He was after a scoop, I'm sure. Probably thought I'd be entertaining escorts but instead…” Taichi’s anger dissipates a bit and suddenly he looks torn up with guilt. “He got a shot of... _us_ . _Together_.”

Yamato watches as Taichi’s mouth moves and catches the odd word as he desperately tries to explain, but Yamato can barely hear him. He feels like the floor has dropped out from under him and he's suspended in space. His thoughts are tumbled together and nonsensical. Dread that Sora is going to find out. Fear that his life as he knows it might be over. Fury that someone else has pushed themselves into their sacred, secret little bubble. And relief too as, for half a moment, he’d suspected Taichi had been caught with someone else. 

“Are you okay?” Taichi asks softly, voice strained.

Yamato looks up at him (when had he sat down?), still dumbstruck. He wishes he had his eloquence and common sense to fall back on right now, but it seems to be in short supply.

“Yamato?”

“Yeah,” Yamato says. His own voice sounds foreign. “Yeah. I'm...you're certain that he can prove it's me?”

Taichi nods slowly. “Yeah...I mean maybe someone cleverer than me with media training could say it's someone who looks a lot like you but…” He trails off, biting his lip. “I'm sorry.”

The haze lifts a bit at that, more at the way Taichi’s voice breaks than the words. “Why are you sorry?” he asks and is surprised to find that his voice is quite steady.

“Because this is my fault. _I_ decided to come out. _I_ panicked… I just didn't want to fuck things up for you, Yamato. That's why I didn't say anything...I'm so sorry.” Taichi stops speaking, ducking his head to bury his face in his hands.

For a long moment Yamato just watches him. The silence roars in his ears. Taichi is small and defeated in front of him but even now, he’s the most courageous person that Yamato knows.

The sudden realisation wakes Yamato from his trance. “You were never going to tell me.”

Taichi shakes his head. “I just wanted it to go away. I never wanted you to find out.”

“You didn't go to the police because you're protecting me,” Yamato says and despite the terror of standing on the knife edge, he's humbled. “You didn't want to risk me. You’re spending a fortune to protect me and I would have never even known.”

Taichi shrugs. “Money isn't important.”

“Money is important when you're trying to set up a new life, Taichi,” Yamato sighs, dragging his hand through his hair. “You can't do it alone-”

“You're not putting your hand in your pocket, Yamato. Sora will notice,” Taichi breaks in, firm.

Yamato’s mouth shuts. He knows Taichi is right. Sora would notice. She'd ask questions that he can't answer.

“Look, I'm not some hero, okay?” Taichi shrugs, even though he very much is in every sense of the word. “I can deal with this. The fall out...I can handle it but you...I can't let that happen to you.”

“Taichi-” 

“This is my fault. I should've been stronger instead of being greedy with you. I knew it was wrong of me but still I just…” He sighs, helpless. “It's on me.”

“You're killing me,” Yamato groans, raking his fingers through his hair. Some strands snag and pull and it helps him keep grounded because right now his heart is thudding like he's a school boy. “You're an _idiot_ ,” he says.

“Thanks a lot,” Taichi responds dryly.

“You're making the single biggest sacrifice anyone's ever made for me and you weren't even going to tell me. You love me that much, huh?”

Taichi’s cheeks flare red. “You don't have to make a big deal out of it.”

For a long moment Yamato looks at him, _really_ looks at him. Tries to discern when this boy he loathed became a man he loves.

He can't. Maybe it's because he never loathed him. Maybe it's because even at their worst, something about Taichi has always swayed him. Maybe it's the way that Taichi is everything. His lion heart and safe hands and endless good. His completely imperfect perfection. 

Yamato doesn't want to live without Sora but he _can't_ live without Taichi. If Sora is contentment, Taichi is fulfilment. If Sora is his Earth, Taichi is his sun.

Even as he makes comparisons, Yamato realises that they're incomparable. Taichi Yagami is utterly incomparable to anyone in the world and Yamato is suddenly very seriously considering the maddest decision of his life.

With a great gulp of breath that feels a lot like steeling his resolve, Yamato looks up at Taichi. “What if you told him to fuck off?”

Taichi scoffs. “Then he publishes. Simple as.”

“Okay so...what if he published?” Yamato says slowly.

“What the-?” Taichi looks at him like he's grown another head. “Do you want me to paint you a picture? It ends up in the news and gossip magazines!” He throws his hands up. “And even if I could get to a media consultant before that happened and we deny its you people might still speculate. At the very least they might point out that ‘ _hey, Yagami, you look awfully into a dude who looks like your best friend_!’

“So what if we went to the media first?” Yamato asks. 

“And say what? Yamato I've already incriminated myself by paying. I’ll just make things worse-”

“And say the truth, Taichi,” Yamato interrupts. Taichi shuts up and Yamato thinks that in any other circumstance, he'd feel smug about that.

“The truth..?” Taichi says the words slowly, as if they're foreign in his mouth. “And what... _is_ the truth?”

“That we have a...romantic...relationship,” Yamato says slowly, tentatively.

Taichi looks completely blank.

Ludicrously, Yamato finds himself blushing. “I know it sounds lame, but what else would you call it?”

“An _affair_!” Taichi shouts. “Have you completely lost your mind?” 

“No.” 

“Seriously. Have I caused some mental breakdown with this?” 

“No.”

“Okay sure, because I'm pretty sure you just told me that you're thinking about telling the press that we’re screwing each other just la-de-dah!”

“Taichi-”

“As if that's the completely _normal_ response to this-”

“Taichi-”

“As if you'd just throw away your marriage and your life like that over some money!”

“Taichi!”

The volume of Yamato’s voice breaks through his babble. When he looks back to him, Yamato can see from his face that he's drained. He's tired and he's done.

“Don't...don't get my hopes up like that, Yamato,” Taichi says, open and vulnerable.

Yamato moves then, standing and wrapping his arms around Taichi in a single, fluid gesture. “I'm not,” Yamato says, squeezing him. “And if you think I'm being blasé about this, I'm not. I'm shitting myself.”

“More like acting crazy,” Taichi mutters, pressing his face to his neck. 

“Maybe yeah,” Yamato agrees. “Maybe this is all an overdue kick in the ass.”

“You don't _need_ to prove anything to me, Yamato. I know what we have is special but I'm fine taking what I can get. I'm not gonna ask you to choose,” Taichi says. He means every word and all it does is make Yamato feel worse.

“You can't live your life waiting for scraps from me. That's not fair to you,” Yamato responds. “So maybe it's time to finally tell the truth.”

“You keep saying ‘tell the truth’ like it's easy,” Taichi argues, pushing back from him a little way. “Be serious, Yamato. Sora isn't going to just okay this. She won't consent to some weird three-way relationship and she might even end your marriage.”

“I'm well aware of that, Taichi,” Yamato says. He speaks slowly because his voice is wobbling. He's scared, _terrified_ because the right thing to do seems like it's the wrong thing to do. “But no ifs or buts. I've been having my cake and eating it for far too long now and I can't keep doing it. It's exhausting and I detest myself for spending half my life lying to my wife and the other half keeping you stuck waiting for me.”

Taichi’s eyes widen at the words. He licks his lips and speaks softly, tentatively. “Yamato...you realise what you're saying? You're talking about separation...possibly divorce. Your kids… You hated that your own parents split up…”

“Taichi, I’m saying that you're worth it, okay?” Yamato says it with such passion that he finds his fists bunching up in Taichi’s shirt. The effect on Taichi is almost instant, his cheeks flaring cherry red. For a second Yamato is distracted by it, thinking it a pretty colour. He softens at Taichi’s flustered expression and eases his grip to cup his cheeks instead. “I'm sorry that I've been selfish all this time,” he carries on, tone gentle. “I’ve left you waiting around for me. I've even put you in this situation and all you've ever done is try to protect me.”

“Yeah but I don't mind-” 

“ _I_ do, Taichi,” Yamato interrupts him. “You're better than being some selfish asshole’s second helping. You're my dirty secret. _You._ The guy who led us to save the world three times over. And I'm the arrogant prick who’s treating you like that. Can you honestly say that you've never thought about what it'd be like to be together properly? Never wished for it?” 

Taichi’s cheeks are still pink. He looks away, scowling slightly. “So what if I have?” he challenges.

“Because so have I!” Yamato spreads his arms out, impassioned. “I can't even handle the thought of you dating other guys and you tolerate me being married and never ask for more. You have every right to hate me and instead you’re still putting me first.”

“I've never resented you, Yamato…” Taichi sighs, eyes finding his once again. “I actually don't get why, because I feel like I should but… I know things are different for you and Sora.” He shrugs.

“They are,” Yamato agrees. “But if I let myself stop to wonder if it had been you I'd got with all those years ago and not Sora, would I be sleeping with _her_ behind _your_ back?” He shakes his head. “I honestly don't think I would.” 

“In real life, as a real life couple I'm pretty sure we woulda killed each other by now,” Taichi chuckles softly.

“Probably,” Yamato nods. “But we always come back to each other.”

“It _is_ like we’re magnetically linked,” Taichi relents, offering a tiny smile.

“We didn't stand a chance,” Yamato smiles back. “The digital world decided that we’re fated at the age of eleven.”

“Younger,” Taichi corrects him. “Hikarigaoka.”

“I’ll give you that one,” Yamato nods.

Taichi flashes him a shit-eating grin at the win. He softens a moment later, the boy replaced by the man once again. “You know this is a childish fantasy that we should've left behind, don't you?”

Yamato hums in thought. He holds his arm out and, despite his words, Taichi steps into him. “We spent our childhood saving the world,” he says, resting his cheek on Taichi’s hair. “I'm more than ready to spend the rest of my life indulging in that childish fantasy.”

“So that's that then?” Taichi says, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“That's that,” Yamato agrees, sealing it with a kiss.

  


\--

Yamato doesn't go home that night, texting Sora to say he'll explain the next day. She doesn't text back and Yamato tries not dwell on it.

He and Taichi had spent the hours saying little, holding tight onto each other. Yamato suspects Taichi is readying himself for disappointment rather than fantasising about what the future could hold. He doesn't blame him. In the darkness and the silence where neither of them pretend to sleep, Yamato can hardly handle thinking about what's to come.

Eventually Yamato sleeps, worn out by the emotional roller coaster that’s the sum total of 15 years of avoiding the truth. When he wakes, he feels sick. He hurries to the en suite bathroom of Taichi’s hotel room and spends half an hour perched on the edge of the bathtub, hand pressed to his mouth. Doubts crawl under his skin, worming and burrowing. _He can't do this. He's a coward. He can't-_

Taichi knocks and makes a weak joke about Yamato clogging up the toilet. It's as if the sound of his voice snaps Yamato out of his trance. The familiarity of his facetious bastard nature almost brings a smile to Yamato’s lips. It helps him to push himself back to his feet and splash his face with water. He doesn't look at himself in the mirror because he doesn't want to remember the man he’ll see looking back at him. The liar and the cheat. It's time to put him away. Yamato doesn't want to see him reflected anymore. 

After he's feeling fresher, Yamato leaves. He doesn't promise Taichi he’ll be back later but he does kiss him. He trusts that it doesn't feel like a last kiss, although he's sure that Taichi has his doubts.

The drive home feels impossibly long, but when he pulls up outside his house he's suddenly panic-stricken because it didn't feel long enough. The house is quiet, devoid of the bustle of family life and from the outside it looks and feels eerie to him. Sitting in his car, he feels the dread rise again. He's afraid of the house -his home, as if going inside it will take him too far beyond the line to ever step back.

He checks his phone, looking for an answer, but neither Sora nor Taichi have contacted him. Briefly he considers calling Gabumon, his sweet, little digimon always there with his gentle voice and tender nuzzles. He wonders how Gabumon would coach him but it's a hard call. Gabumon loves Sora and the children, so the sensible, family-orientated side of him would tell him that he's being a complete fool. On the other hand though, Gabumon adores Taichi and Agumon, and he understands -enshrines even- that magical, undeniable bond that lives and thrives between Taichi and Yamato.

An hour and more passes and some well-meaning but nosey neighbours have begun to grow twitchy. Yamato gathers his courage and throws the car door open. He steps out and heads inside. Each step feels heavier than the last, but he marches forwards regardless. His feet carry him to his and Sora’s bedroom.

He doesn't allow himself to scan the room and he presses down the feeling in his gut about the woman that he shares the bed with. The woman that he still loves. He knows it only too well and although it doesn't shake his resolve, he is keenly aware it will only make things all the more difficult.

It doesn't take him long to pack: his digivice, harmonica and a couple of photos of the kids. He's sentimental, but he associates memory with feeling and not stuff. A couple of changes of clothes suffice since he and Taichi aren't far off each other’s sizes. Everything else can be replaced (except the things that really matter).

Done, he leaves the bedroom, not wanting to spend more time there than necessary. It feels wrong somehow to be there.

Yamato steps into the living room and stands still for a moment, bag straps clutched in his fist. His eyes scan the room, seeking evidence of his family, drinking it in and remembering the feeling. A stray toy Sora has missed lies abandoned, half under the sofa. The next time it's reclaimed it may well be as tears roll down his son’s face.

His eyes linger on the wall; he recalls he and Sora were overdue painting it. They'd planned to do it after New Year but life had got in the way. He wonders what colour she’ll decide to paint it now. It'll be a decision he won't be part of. He doesn't dwell on it.

Every piece of furniture, every scuff mark, every chip, scratch and smudge tell a story. It's all testament to the life he’s lived and shared with his family, a life he’s treasured, despite coming to terms with the fact it’s lacking what really matters.

He’ll miss the cracks and the fingerprints. They feel like a part of himself.

He’s dangerously adrift in a sea of the unknown. It would be easy to paddle back to the safety of the shore, unpack, put his bag away. The temptation is there. Forget everything. Wake up tomorrow with the familiar chairs and scuffs and sounds of his children’s laughter. But even as he considers it, he knows it's too late. He's adrift but he yearns to seek what he suspects is beyond the horizon.

It's with that thought that Yamato clears his mind as much as he possibly can. With one last glance around the room he sits down and waits for his wife to come home.

  
\--

Sora arrives home early. Yamato can detect the panic in her motions even before he hears it in her voice. He asked his mother to pick the children up to give him and Sora some space. Sora has probably assumed the worst, although Yamato is fairly sure she hasn’t guessed what he’s actually about to tell her.

She finds him sitting on the sofa, staring hard at his digivice.

“Yamato?” She sits opposite and braces herself, waiting patiently.

Yamato sucks in a breath. It feels like his last. “Sora,” he says. His voice sounds weak. He already knows his words won’t come easily to him. He's rehearsed in his head but now it sounds contrived and insincere and not at all what he wants to say. “Sora...I'm leaving.”

Sora sits back. Her face is frozen in disbelief. “What?” is all she can say.

“I'm leaving, Sora,” Yamato repeats and winces.

“To go where?” Sora whispers. “When are you coming back?” That comes out stronger.

“With...with Taich,” Yamato replies. “And...never.”

“You-” Sora breaks off. She laughs humourlessly. “Is this a joke?”

“No, Sora. I'm serious,” Yamato says, voice soft.

“You want to leave me- leave our children and for _what_? A sad attempt to reclaim your lost youth? Romp around on an adventure in the digital world?” Sora hisses. She's misinterpreted the entire situation. Yamato should have guessed she would. He just can't believe the thought of he and Taichi being together is so strange when it feels so natural.

Yamato sucks in another deep breath. _Keep breathing_ , he thinks. _It's an anchor_. “I’m not having a mid-life crisis, Sora,” he says slowly. “Taichi and I… we…” He can see something beginning to dawn in Sora’s expression. Disbelief is holding it back, but it's clinging to the fringes, hooks of realisation gripping into her thoughts. Yamato doesn't like seeing her struggle like that so he finishes her thought for her. “Taichi and I are lovers. I've been having an affair with him.”

SIlence falls like a heavy blanket. The air feels so thick it feels like he’s breathing jelly. Sora’s face is slack with shock, her eyes wide, dazed.

“But...you're not gay,” she murmurs after a long moment, stupefied.

“No,” Yamato agrees. “I'm not. It's only him.”

“So you…” Sora whispers. She's pale. Yamato worries she might be sick. “You and he- you. Have you had _sex_ with him?”

Yamato swallows, prepares himself to deliver the blow. Realises he’ll never be prepared because it’ll be the blow that smashes everything he knows irrevocably. “Yes.”

A spectrum of emotion passes over Sora’s face. Hurt and horror are two that burn into Yamato’s mind, but fury is the one that Sora settles on. “You've been _sleeping_ with Taichi? You've been _cheating_ on me with a _man_?” She seethes, voice rising with each word. 

Yamato wants to bow his head but he knows that he owes her dearly. He cannot be a coward now. “Yes,” he nods again.

It proves to be too much. Sora flies off the sofa, hand to mouth, and disappears into the kitchen. The retching that follows stab at Yamato, the gnawing guilt making him nauseous, his pounding heart making him dizzy.

Minutes that feel like hours pass before Sora returns. She's pale, but otherwise dry-eyed. Judging by her schooled expression, Yamato suspects she's been gathering herself. Her hands are trembling though.

“You know,” she starts. “I actually suspected you might be cheating on me for a fraction of a second because of all the nights away. I wondered how Taichi could possibly be that interesting to consume so much of your time, but stupid me dismissed it!” Her laugh is sharp and angry. “What an idiot. Why did it never occur to me that my husband, the father of my children, was sleeping with our _male_ friend?" 

Her next laugh is short, high-pitched. It sounds awful coming from Sora. “Maybe it was my trust in you. Maybe it's because I thought we’d been through too much together. Maybe it’’s me, yet you never seemed to have any complaints when you had sex with _me_.”

“I love you,” Yamato responds by way of explanation. He winces, knowing immediately it's the wrong thing to say.

“You _love_ me?” Sora spits. She's back on her feet now, clenched fists white. “You love me so much that you'd cheat on me - break our vows - with a man?”

Yamato has nothing to say to that. How can he possibly explain he loves Sora, but that it's not enough to eclipse how much he loves Taichi? That he feels nothing for any other man, but Taichi has an inexplicable hold on him? Nothing he can say will do it justice and Sora deserves that in the very least. 

“So what happened, Yamato?” she continues. “What made my straight husband screw another man? You reacted to Taichi’s coming out by wondering what being gay was like? Thought you'd give it a go?”

Yamato finds no humour there. He swipes his tongue over his teeth. Time for another blow. “It’s...I've been with him… Romantically… Since we were 15.”

Sora sits back down, the fight sucked out of her in an instant. Her hand goes to her mouth. Yamato sits and lets her process, worries when it takes minutes and minutes.

“You mean to tell me,” she says after some time, voice barely above a whisper. “That you have been with Taichi since _before_ you started dating _me_?”

“...yes,” Yamato admits.

“So for the _entire_ duration of our relationship I've been...what? A beard? _Second choice_?”

“No!” Yamato breaks in. He has to kill that line of thought. “Absolutely not. Sora I _love_ you. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. No matter how much I've fucked things up and how much I've hurt you, you have to know that.”

“Do I?” Sora asks. It's rhetorical and she doesn't give him time to answer. To explain. “You've told me that our entire relationship has been based on a lie. That the _entire time_ you've been screwing our friend.”

“It wasn't the entire time…” Yamato says, although it sounds like a feeble excuse. And it is an excuse. Because the entire thing has been utterly inexcusable. The way that Sora is looking at him confirms it. “I can't explain it. Sora. I didn't understand what was between us as kids and I'm not gay. Loving you made more sense. And it was good. It was genuinely fantastic and I have loved you so, so much. But there's just something about him. I could never just let him go.”

“But you can let _us_ go?” Sora snaps. “You can let your family go because you've chosen him over us?”

“I…” Yamato doesn't know what to say. She's put it in a crude way that he's not thought about before, but yes. That's exactly what he's done.

“I see,” Sora says, voice tight.

“Sora...I can't ask for you to forgive me, but please-”

“If you’re about to ask what I think you are,” Sora interrupts, fury spiking once again. “Then you can go and fuck yourself. I'm not the bad guy here, Yamato. I'm not the one who's _destroyed_ this family and this life.” She pauses, lets it sink in. Yamato flinches; he hates himself for doing just that. “But no, I'm not about to keep you from your children. I won't let you break their hearts any more than you have done. Just as long as I don't have to look at you ever again.”

“Thank you…”

Sora shakes her head. “Thank me? For what? The life I've given you? The years of being a complete idiot? For letting you fuck our friend because I was too stupid to notice? For being a hole to stick your cock into when Taichi wasn't available?” Her voice rises with each question mark until she's shouting. It's not like her, but then, Yamato’s never done anything close to hurting her this badly before.

“It was never like that. You have to believe me,” Yamato says, pained.

“I'm done with believing you, Yamato. I'm sick of your lies and sick of you. I want you gone. I want you out of my life,” she finishes, jerking her head away. Her eyes are hidden and Yamato suspects she's barely holding back tears. Neither of them can believe she's said those words, but neither can blame her one bit for it.

“My oldest friend-” Sora stops herself with a fist to her mouth. Yamato thinks that he hears a hiccup. He definitely hears a shuddery breath. “Get out,” she says. It's quiet but there's such an air of finality that Yamato knows he can say no more. 

He gets up, collecting his bag with one hand, and moves to the door. There he pauses. A million words to say come to mind. But in the end there's nothing more _to_ say. So he leaves, knowing that the moment he’s gone she’ll allow herself to break.

Yamato will miss her badly and his children worse. He'll miss this house - his home - and his life and his contentment.

But even as he gets in his car and drives away, he doesn't feel the emptiness he expected to feel. He doesn't feel the terrible crash of a wave of regret. He doesn't even feel devastated; sad that a part of his life that he'd enjoyed is over, but not crushed. 

What he feels instead is relief and excitement for what comes next.

 

\--

 “Yamato!” Taichi startles as Yamato pushes his door open, bag in hand. “Wha-” He stops to eye the hold-all.

“Let me guess, you thought I was going to duck out on you, didn't you?” Yamato responds, dumping the bag onto the bed. When Taichi nods, Yamato tuts. “Day one and you don't trust me. That doesn't say much about our relationship.”

“You did it..?” Taichi sounds as if he can't believe it. Like he's too scared to.

“Yeah, I did it,” Yamato replies. “I'm an absolutely crap person, I hope you know and I doubt Sora will ever be your friend again. If you're willing to deal with that, I'm all yours.” 

Taichi swallows noisily. “I'm...I'm willing,”

“Good,” Yamato says. “Good, because our friends are going to be really pissed off with us-”

He's cut off by the feeling of Taichi crashing into his back. His arms go around Yamato’s middle and hold him like he's terrified he's going to erupt into a cloud of butterflies. Despite everything, Yamato finds himself smiling.

“Don't care,” Taichi says, even though they both know he does.

“Hmm,” Yamato agrees. He indulges Taichi in his hug, stroking his arms with the palms of both his hands. 

“How're you feeling?” Taichi asks after a moment, voice soft in contrast to his firm hold.

Yamato let's out a long breath. He can hardly comprehend how he feels exactly, but he knows that that's okay. Taichi isn't expecting him to be sunshine and rainbows, and he's not asking for it either. Knowing that makes Yamato love him more.

“I'm not sure… I feel like I've just cut a limb off if I'm honest. I've ended my life as I know it so I guess shit scared is one thing. Furious with myself for breaking her heart when she doesn't deserve it… all I've ever done is be selfish but this is the last time. No more lying…” He sighs. “It feels good. No...not good. It feels like relief. I feel...lighter somehow.” 

Taichi squeezes his waist. Yamato knows he understands. It gives him faith they’ll work their way through this.

A minute goes by where they stand in silence. “So what happens now?” Taichi asks, hesitant.

Yamato smiles to himself and turns around in Taichi’s arms to face him. “I believe you said something once about ‘running away to the digital world and fucking all day.”

Taichi gives him a playful shove. “Dick,” he says. “I'm serious.”

“I know,” Yamato softens, sliding his hands up to squeeze Taichi’s shoulders. “How about the real world then?” 

“So first we tackle the digital world and now real world, huh? Sounds scary,” Taichi grins.

“Well, we've always been a formidable team.”

Taichi’s smile softens into something adoring. He leans into press their foreheads together. “Yeah, we have. Always.”

“Even though we argue more than we agree!” Yamato chuckles.

“But if the journey was easy, it wouldn't be worth travelling,” Taichi says sagely. 

“Shut up,” Yamato grins. Taichi grins back.

They stand like that for a long time, pressed together as if made from stone, unapologetic and unconquerable. They kiss to celebrate their new life. I tastes like the beginning of their next adventure.

  


*5M¥ = ~ £31,000


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